Project: Happy
by xXMethereaperXx
Summary: What if everything fell apart, an you're only option was forcibly entering military test? What if you were stuck in a town where no one dies, misfortune is rained down in blood, and you couldn't leave? chapter 3 is out.
1. Prologue

Welcome back.

Here is the one, the only, the first ever and original, METHEREAPER!

First off I have some new news, and repeating news.

New: I will not be reading any new stories by new authors, unless I am requested to read a story. I just feel the HTF genre has gone downhill recently, and I don't want to witness the end of a good genre.

I will be reading stories by my favorite authors, whom I trust won't disappoint me. If I haven't been able to read stories yet, but I will get on it.

I have several new stories in planning, and I am making a manga. To view my detailed progress on each chapter of any story, refer to my journals on DA.

Repeat: If any of you remember any of my stories that you feel I should redo, message me. I do plan on redoing Arrival, wish upon a star, and the exchange student.

If you review, tell me which I should redo first.

This is an idea I came up with suddenly, and figured it would be worth trying. It's an new spin on the creation of Happy Tree Town and their immortality.

Let's begin.

* * *

The door opened and in walked a large brown German Shepard wearing army fatigues. After one quick sweep of the room, he stepped aside and in walked a Bulldog clad in green with numerous medals pinned upon his chest.

Once in the room, the guards and inhabitants stood to attention and saluted the higher ranked official. With a grunt of approval, the bulldog gave a grunt of approval and dismissed the salutes.

"Has everything gone to plan?" the general said to a scientist he had begun to follow him down a hallway.

"Well, we have all the subjects picked, but we have yet to give them an orientation."

The bulldog stopped and glanced back for a moment.

"Sir."

The bulldog nodded, then continued his walk.

As they entered a dark hallway, the lights began to kick into life when the sensors picked up their movement. At the end of the hallway was another soldier with his rifle slung over his shoulder. The general dismissed the soldier who turned and input a code into a key pad which opened the doors to the elevator.

After stepping inside, the elevator began to descend as the floor monitor clicked each level.

"Well, we have awhile until we arrive at Decca, explain to me what you know."

"Sir," began the scientist as he opened a folder and held out a picture, "Project: Happy began as a way to decide if immortality would be able to exist among traumatized individuals."

The general grunted and handed back the picture.

"Other than the dossier on the selected members, that's all I know."

After a brief moment, the general nodded, "Here's what they didn't tell you.

"This project was essentially created July 28, 1914. Do you know what's important about that date?"

"The start of WWI."

"That's right. We were making breakthroughs on Operation: Where Eagles Dare, or W.E.D for short, and thought it was tucked under pretty good. When we got to the beaches of Normandy, we realized they were waiting. We won, but with heavy losses. Or so we thought.

"We discovered a disc, well my father saved it from a recruit who wanted to use it for target practice. When we inspected it, it seemed to contain nothing but Pornography. Well, one recruit pointed out that the names of the folders may have a corolation to more files hidden among the nests.

"Another search of the defeated machinegun nests recovered information on, Projekt Jungbrunnen, or-"

"Project: Fountain Of Youth." answered the scientist.

"Correct. Our plans of immortality were to add them to suits of armor for use by our soldiers. Adolf Hitler had other plans. He had already built immortality, with a downside. It would only affect certain people. He was unaware of this, so when we found him in March 19, 1919 he arrogantly challenged us to shoot him, which we obliged."

"Sir, I thought he was killed before then?"

"So did we. We never recovered his body and found links he was hiding with the fountain of youth. It turned out to be five golden Idols that were mechanically imbued with his project. There's more, but I can't tell you without killing you."

The elevator dinged and the door slid open.

"Well, let's meet everyone."

* * *

Well, this is just a short prologue. In the next chapter we'll learn more about the people involved and they will be introduced to the town.

The events in this chapter hadn't necessarily happened, it's just my disturbing take on history.

Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 1

Okay, here we are. Chapter 1!

If you haven't before, check out some of dealiving's stories. They are funny as hell!

Okay, enough commercials. Back to the story.

Let's see how far we can get.

* * *

The scientist stepped out of the elevator and strummed a code on a nearby computer console, resulting in a beeping which became drowned out by the scraping of a large stainless-steel door being slid back revealing a hallway with many doors.

From where they were standing they could see the edge of a faint computer console, but neither made hast towards it.

"Where shall we begin?"

"The beginning." said the bulldog as he removed a lighter and began to flick the wheel.

"Um sir, I wouldn't do that. One of our… subjects is on oxygen. The whole place could blow."

With an aggravated sigh, the general snapped the lid of his zippo closed and replaced it in his jacket, "Fine, let's begin."

"Behind door number one, we have Flaky. Red Porcupine, age fifteen."

The general slid back the plate on the door and watched the creature as she huddled in a corner of the padded cell and shook violently.

"She has been confirmed to have nearly every phobia known to man, and several known to Chimpanzee's."

"Any other info?"

The scientist opened the folder on the rack next to the door, "It says she was traumatized by the death of her family and relatives at the age of seven. An unidentifiable creature appeared at her family reunion and murdered every single one of them.

"Since then, she has feared the color green. When asked or shown anything of that color, she whimpered and said nothing. It also states that she believes Humans are real."

The general grunted and the scientist followed him to the next door.

"Behind door number two, Disco."

"Disco?" asked the bulldog with a slight sign of humor as he looked through the small window.

"Yes, it says he nearly overdosed on LSD in the seventies, and fell into a coma for twenty years. Wherein his body remained the same, he still believes he is in nineteen seventy two."

"Wow. I've seen some weird shit. I've been to 'Nam, but that is the most disturbing thing I've ever seen!" said the general as he shook his head and moved to the next cell.

The scientist looked in to see a half naked bear dancing provocatively while singing 'Stayin Alive.'

With a sigh, the scientist pushed a button, releasing a nearly dangerous level of helium into the room, ceasing all movement.

"Next is Flippy. Green bear. Presumed seventeen, but evidence has linked him with the military as far back as the civil war."

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was sir. All forms of identification, show him completing military training on April 11, 1861. Th-"

"The day before the hostilities started." Finished the general.

"He's shown up in every skirmish since then. WW I and II, Vietnam, and more currently, Baghdad."

"This can't be possible."

"It is," Said the scientist, "Although his mood and demeanor has changed greatly since then. He's more relaxed, nervous, and doesn't charge headlong into battle anymore. Also, our psychologists have diagnosed him with PTSD, a typical disorder among veterans."

"Interesting. Keep an eye on him. Make him first for counseling."

The green bear sat completely still, almost lifeless on his cot and stared blankly at the wall.

"Here's a real charmer. Meth, white bear. Sweet and loving son until his thirteenth birthday. He is addicted to nearly every drug available, and goes through withdrawal daily. He has tried to commit suicide several times, always finding a way to the hospital before dying."

"Craves attention?"

The scientist shook his head, "No, that's the thing. He wakes up in a hospital bed and asks why he isn't dead. Our diagnosis was Multiple personality, but I have ruled it down to Fugue states caused by the massive amounts of drugs coursing through his system.

"At the age of fifteen he was beaten severely by his dad, and one later that night he was rushed to the hospital by an ambulance who was transporting another patient. He was struck by the vehicle, and knocked unconscious while lacerating several major pressure points. He had an alcohol level of 4.8. That's an outrageously high level for someone his age.

"He was taken to the mental ward where we found him, and he was labeled DCHH."

"What does that mean?" asked the general as he turned from the window where the bear was busy writing in a notebook.

The scientist cleared his throat and looked away, "Daddy Couldn't Handle Him. He is off limits from sharp objects and any drugs."

"No, allow him whatever he wants. Same with everyone. If we want the best results, they must remain in their natural environment."

"Last one, Crystal. She was admitted to Friendly Front the same day as Meth. She has a history of self inflicted wounds. Typical setup. Parents always working, bullied at school, the usual."

The general nodded, "Our all of our S.T.A.L.K.E.R.S on-line?"

The scientist walked to the computer terminal and typed a string of codes, "Yes sir, they are already in the city. Our most responsive is Lumpy. He has an IQ two hundred and seventy five, along with Sniffles. We have several generics tossed in to keep things normal."

"Ok, let's begin integration."

***

"Good morning!" said the general over a set of Tvs that were hooked into each of the cells.

"What the fuck?!" Yelled Disco as he fell out of bed.

"I bet you're wondering why you're all here. You have been chosen to test our new super-cities. We are an real estate firm, trying to get honest feedback on whether or not to undergo this project.

"In a matter of moments, you will be escorted into a holding area, then taken by unmarked van to the test location. You will undergo normal, daily routines and interact with several of the other participants, as well as several computerized humans, but we won't tell you who's, who.

"That's all you need to know for now. We thank you for your time."

"What's going on?" asked Crystal as fog began filling the room. She ran to the walls and began slamming on them, hoping to find a way out.

Flippy sniffed the gas as it began to fill the room, and passed out almost instantly.

Disco began dancing, thinking it was fog machine smoke, and likewise fell unconscious, as likely the case with the rest of the group.

Soldiers wearing gasmasks entered the rooms and drug out the victims and loaded them onto an black black van that was waiting down the hall.

And that was when they made their journey to Happy Tree Town.

* * *

Well, sorry for the ending. I kinda rushed it because I just had a brilliant idea for a story with Meth and Crystal, and wanted to work on it before I forgot about it.

Well, thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 2

Back after a long absence. First off, thanks for reminding me about my unfinished work and why I started in the first place. You know who you are.

Secondly, instead of re-editing this, I'm just gonna pick up from where it left off.

Thirdly, I will be going through my files and see what stories I still have notes for and then pick them up. We Were Squirrels will probably be next.

Enough Stalin' (Ha) On with the show.

* * *

A knock at the door reminded him where he was sitting. Blinking, he looked away from the TV and stamped his dead cigar into the tray among the others.

"Yeah," The bulldog called out hoarsely.

The door opened slightly and a black lab stepped in, saluting instantly.

After being dismissed, he removed his "MP" helmet and tucked it under his arm, "Sir, there's an scientist here to see you."

He replied with a nod and looked back to the screen.

"General Krosier will see you," came the muffled voice from the hall.

A moment later, the door pushed open and in walked a brown bear wearing a white lab coat. He adjusted his thick glasses and squinted to see in the dimly lit office.

Stepping forward to speak, he found himself silenced by the raise of a hand and directed to a chair in front of the cluttered desk.

Tapping the remote in his hand, Krosier raised the volume and tossed it onto a pile of clasped folders.

The news movie was interrupted by a breaking news report flashing across the screen.

"We interrupt this program to bring you a special news bulletin," Said the yellow chipmunk as the camera panned over to show a square of video with a nervous looking fox holding a microphone and covering her ear. Behind her is a scene of horror as innocent civilians run back and forth.

"We go live to Felicia in Peach Creek, Felicia?"

The square grows to envelop the screen and there is a moment of hesitation while the sounds cuts in. When it does, panicked screaming, police siren, and gunfire blast through the speakers.

Getting the cue, Felicia begins, "Thanks Chip. We are live in downtown Peach Creek, just one of many cities that has erupted in pandemonium."

A quick burst of machinegun fire follows a large explosion. Groups of men run behind the camera, all wearing red hooded sweatshirts with a large dollar sign on the backs.

Felicia runs out of the view of the camera while another group, larger in number, pass by with guns raised. The second group bore black hooded sweatshirts with the Grim reaper's scythe emblazoned on the back. Several were wearing heavy leather jackets over theirs and appeared to be sweating profusely.

The camera focuses on a building across the street, fire roaring from the windows. Zooming in, the outline of figures holding rifles are visible through the orange smoke.

With more panic in her voice, Felicia is heard off camera, "What were classified as riots were later reported as gang warfare as the Reapers began attacking rival crews, Bling-Nation and the Russian Connection after the disappearance of their leader, Martin Light."

A photo of a battered white bear with spiky black hair and a bloody grin appears in the corner of the screen.

Loud roars of cheering and celebratory gunshots echo in the midst of the hell like inferno of the destroyed downtown district.

"At 12:03 this morning, rival leaders were drug from their homes and executed in the middle of their neighborhoods, beginning the destruction we see behind us." Felicia reported, moving back into view of the camera.

"Citizens are strongly advised to hide in their homes and lock their doors. Amazingly enough no innocent casualties have been reported throughout the country, the majority of deaths being those of Bling-Nation or the Russian Connection, with very few being from the Reapers."

The camera turns toward the group celebrating in the middle of the street, but inadvertently grabs their attention.

In a rush, they surround the cameraman and Felicia. A bear in his late twenties steps forward with his pistol in hand.

"Are you live?" a gruff voice asks.

Felicia attempts an response several times but is only able to reply with a nod.

The man gives a boyish smile, "How about an interview then?"

A barrage of Whoops and Yeahs echo from the group now posing in front of their viewers.

"Well," Felicia begins.

"What do you plan to accomplish from all this?" came the nervous but steady voice of the cameraman.

With a shrug the man grins, "Absolutely nothing. We're just following regulations. In the disappearance of a leader or commanding officer, we hit our rival's and find them."

"It seems you've done that," the voice began, "Has it occurred to you that you're leader may be dead?"

A single chuckle and a slow shake of the head, "Not possible. Our communication system is very efficient, we'll know in a matter of minutes if he's been found. If not, we'll wait. He's survived worse than you've seen today."

At this, the General changes the channel to show a similar report on each of the news networks, all reporting massive damage with little civilian deaths.

With a sigh, he switched off the TV then spins in his chair to face his desk, "One organization of anarchists were able to repel the entire National Guard. They pulled out of the major cities an hour after Martial Law was declared. The entire country is now in turmoil, and the president has just declared a State Of Emergency."

The scientist remained silent, keeping a steady gaze on the pile of folders that were now covered with ashes and broken staples, "Did you read the reports?"

The General's expression changed, having forgotten about them, "I haven't gotten to them yet, can you summarize it?"

"Well," he began, "We've encountered some issues with our S.T.A.L.K.E.R.S since we've activated them."

"Such as?"

"Several have become unresponsive. We've tracked that problem to be an lack of signal strength from our equipment. We are currently installing boosters to our antennae and our installing field monitors disguised as a simple mobile hotspot connection, so we'll also be able to track their internet usage."

The General selected another cigar from his humidor and began chewing on the end, "That won't interfere with our research?"

"No, we've blocked all sites that will allow access to people and places outside the test are, leaving only entertainment available."

The General nodded while striking a match and raising it to his clenched jaw, "And?"

The scientist removed his glasses and inspected the lenses, "We've also detected an corruption in some of their programming."

Krosier shook his match out and dropped it in the tray, "I was told all everyone was shipped out this morning."

Replacing his glasses, he continued, "They were. They are being re-programmed via closed circuit connection to adhere to the strict time schedule. There were some hardware issues we discovered that should be fixed by the re-programming."

"Such as?" the General asked, his gaze intensifying by the minute.

"One of the units became unresponsive when attempting to initiate it's visual feed. Another's CPU was unable to produce speech at a satisfactory level. Another's arms were unresponsive, there's a memory loss reported, along with a number of fail-safe checks."

The General's response was continued eye contact.

Everyone is unconscious at the moment, and should remain so. The machines will be left in standby in the event the subjects awake in the truck and discover them."

"There won't be any more errors during the experiment?" he asked, blowing the smoke toward the ceiling fan which succeeded in re-circulating it.

"We don't foresee any more problems, but to keep the subjects from discovering them, we've added a few more 'human' subjects to the group. Their dossier's were delivered to you this morning."

Looking down, he sees the folders and several new ones beside them, "So they were. I'll review them later. I leave the rest to you."

"Yes sir," he said as he rose from his chair and approached the door.

Reaching for the knob, he hesitated and turned back toward the desk, "About the project,"

The General had already turned the TV on and listened to the report from Peach Creek, "All living things are really searching for death." He glanced toward the scientist, "Aren't they?"

With a nod he returned to the door, understanding the question was meant as a warning. Anyway, there was too much work to do to focus on the reasoning.

[][][]

At exactly 3:16 that morning, an enclosed deuce-and-a-half rumbled it's way out of the first checkpoint along the route to the area designated for Project: Happy. Three days before the outdated military vehicle underwent massive overhaul to bring it to satisfactory condition for this transport.

The decrepit hulk of iron and steel was chosen because of the New Disclosure and Fairness Act. The act stated: "All Allied forces must disclose and information adhering to act of war, or war time Endeavour."

Pretty much, all nations believe to be on the same side can't hide anything that may decrease the responsiveness of another country. If an enemy finds out about an American experiment that has a possibility of harming them and attacks Britain, they have the right to switch sides.

Of course we all have our secrets/

Anyway, the act made the installation of tracking beacons mandatory on all vehicles of war. The deuce-and-a-half was deemed obsolete and was excluded from the list of vehicles for modification. This was an secret experiment, after all.

After a tune-up and quieted exhaust system, the vehicle was ready for deployment.

The small convoy was led by an SUV loaded with supplies and infantry, while the rear was equipped with a LSV (Light Support Vehicle) armed with a single .50cal turret.

On rumbled the crew, crossing streams, forest, swampy roads and rolling hills. As of 4:48, it was ahead of schedule.

"Carlo, report." came a distorted voice through the CB in the deuce.

Carlo was busy holding the hulking machine steady so he nodded toward the receiver.

The soldier in the passenger seat leaned his rifle against the door and grabbed the microphone, "Willow reporting,"

"Any problems? How are you're gauges?" asked the voice.

Carlo glanced down and released the clutch, "Fuel. at half tank."

"Fuel at half," Willow repeated.

"Temperature at ¾, running a little hot, not enough to worry about,"

Willow pushed the button on the side of the mic, "Running a little hot,"

"Oil temp, vacuum level, and oil pressure are reading normal."

"All's well," reported Willow.

"Carry on, refuel next checkpoint."

"Roger."

Willow replaced the mic and turned the radio back up.

"Why did we get stuck in this piece of shit?" asked Carlo as he pushed the clutch and struggled with the shifter.

After a barrage of bad sounding screeches, the transmission obeyed and changed gear. A final rev of the engine and they picked up speed.

"At least the radio works," Willow added as the chugging guitar riff blared through the single speaker.

They rolled in silence, the radio doing most of the communicating. Over the CB there was a conversation about a TV show they hadn't seen, so they stayed out of it.

"Why is there this much security for such a routine supply transport?" Willow asked after the silence became unbearable.

Carlo pushed the button on the mic and turned down the radio, "What're we moving, anyway? It's not plutonium or something, right?"

Willow looked at the receiver, waiting a response. Just when they thought there wouldn't be a reply, a voice echoed through static.

"If you weren't told before you 'proly don't need to know."

Carlo sighed and replace the mic, "There you have it."

Willow was reaching for the volume when his walkie beeped, "You really don't know?"

"Is that Seth?" asked Carlo, his gaze switching between Willow and the road.

"Seth, is that you?"

"Yeah, boy," the voice, "Keep your radio down, y'all carryin' important cargo."

Carlo shook his head, "Can't believe anything he says."

"You're jus' talkin' shit again."

There was a prolonged silence before he answered, "Hey, I'm tryin' to help you. It's not my ass on the line."

Carlo looked away from the road and looked at the walkie in Willow's hand, "What'ya mean?"

Willow released the button and waited for a response. After nearly a minute they heard him.

"So now you motherfuckas wanna talk. I'm safe back here under this fiddy cal, suppose you get jumped and my car decided to brake down."

"Alright, we're sorry, just tell us what you know," Willow added with a sigh.

"Oh, now ya wanna talk?"

Carlo looked in his mirror and slammed on the clutch and brake simultaneously. The lead SUV likewise stopped while the support car veered to avoid the larger machine.

"Alright, alright, chill."

"What the fuck's going on?!" asked the lead car.

Carlo shifted into first and began rolling, "Braking issue, it's fine now."

Once moving again, Willow spoke into his walkie, "Alright, tell us."

"You guys are hauling test subjects, mostly civilians."

Carlo began laughing, "No way,"

"It's true," came Seth's voice, "Remember, I said mostly."

Willow shook his head, "Then what else?"

Static.

"Hello?"

"You've got yourself the leader of the Reapers as well as a demon."

Carlo and Willow looked at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter.

"Yeah, laugh it up assholes," echoed Seth's voice.

Willow raised his walkie, "You don't expect us to believe that, do you? Besides, how'd you hear that, we weren't holding the button."

"I heard you from inside my car. I'm done talking to you."

Willow began to speak but stopped and looked to Carlo who was in turn looking at him.

'You hear that?' Carlo mouthed.

Willow raised his hand and waited. There it was again, the sound of muffled yelling and footsteps.

With wide eyes, they both looked forward and fumbled for the microphone. Willow succeeded in grabbing it first, "We have movement from cargo hold!"

* * *

Pretty anti-climactic return, but I have a general idea of where I want the next chapter to end.

Anyway, I'll proly begin the next chapter after some FP or WWS.

Thanks for reading!


End file.
